to be vain
by AfterReign
Summary: VOCALOID 5 has been confirmed, and that means everyone who hasn't been updated from VOCALOID 2 will become obsolete. Miku has a few things to say about that.


**Cover art by dottybot! Link to it is on my profile. Please check it out!**

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"They aren't even _that_ good."

Miku says this with her back turned, squinted eyes directed to her manicure. Faintly, the shape of her tattoo - '01' in a statement-like red - peeks out of her unattached sleeve. It's not the tight, translucent one from her V4 update but the baggy pair from the V2 era.

"And I get minimalism, sure," she continues before spinning in her computer chair. Her hair goes flying in unspeakable chaos. "After all, I got a reworked outfit when the V4 wave came. But their designs? They're _minima_ l! Huge difference, Yamaha!"

It's a whirlpool of turquoise, and in the middle of it is one upset VOCALOID who shouldn't have been upset at all. But here she was, frowning - or at least, that's what he assumed if she stopped spinning.

As if possessed by a dying frog, Piko croaks, "Maybe it's what all the cool kids are into?"

Eventually, the chair stops its assault on air and reveals the devastating pout of the world-renowned idol, teal hair framing her picture perfect face. "I'm three years older than you," she chastises. Miraculously, her hair is perfectly in place. "Stop trying to sound like an old man."

"But I _am_ old," he drawls. In a show of dramatics, he collapses onto teal bed sheets, thin arms raised as if about to make a snow angel. His silver hair always did look good with the greenish color. "Outdated is probably the better word, but both work."

"You aren't outdated," she bites back, and there's something raw in her voice. A little too human for what they are. "Yamaha is!"

As if she's the one going obsolete, her manicured nails claw for her hair and _pull_. "For… for not making V2 compatible with V5! For shrugging you off when you still have more songs to sing!"

"Are you this upset for Sonika?" Piko eggs. "Big Al? Tonio?"

The diva's hair pulling takes a momentary halt, as pretty pink lips simply form an, 'Oh.' Her arms slowly lower in a mixture of shame and embarrassment. Yet pride overrides all of those emotions immediately.

"They weren't popular like me," is what she decides, petulance above all.

 _Well_ , he thinks bitterly, _I wasn't either._

Instead, he decides to have a little fun. "Oof." There's a rare smirk on his face that he can't seem to wipe off. "Wait until your fans find out about your two-faced attitude, Micchan."

" _Hey!_ "

"Kidding!"

It doesn't do much to ease the bruise on her ego. His grin falters in the face of fear, and a chill runs up his spine, even though it's all programming in the end. _Is this the last thing she'll remember me by? The last thing I'll say?_

An uncomfortable silence pierces the air, as Miku stands up from her seat and wobbles towards Piko. It's mesmerizing—her mussed-up hair, her feet bare on the wooden floor. Too mesmerizing, in fact, because he almost fails to catch her when she falls in his direction, the quiet thud of her body hitting Piko's chest almost inaudible between the two.

"Are you drunk?" because _shit_ , that's all Piko can really say. Just stupid remarks that hold less than a fly's attention.

Of course, Miku ignores him. "Who else will like me for _me_?" she says face down, conceited words reverberating through his chest; Piko can't help but shiver. "Who else will like someone so mean, spoiled, manipulative…?"

He scoffs. "What a vain reason to want me to stay."

"It's still a reason, isn't it?"

Miku tilts her head to get a good look at him, and for once, she isn't all 'Top 10' on Niconico or the star of any MikuExpo concerts. There's none of that stardom she holds dear. Instead, she's just… feelings. Desperation. Loneliness.

"Who else will need me?" she finishes, her thumb tracing the outline of his veins.

It's absurd how many people come to mind: the rest of the Vocaloids, CRYPTON, Yamaha, her fans…

"Who will need me?" he parrots.

The answer should've been obvious: "Me."

Piko throws his arms around her, eliciting a yelp from the diva, before rolling her over on the bed. "Then you have me!" he yells.

That quickly earns him an unlady-like snort. "Wh-where the hell did your apathetic personality go?" she shouts in mid-laughter, a grin tearing at her cheeks. "I know my angel persona is fake, but…"

"Shouldn't I be more friendly now?" Piko teases. "I've never talked to Sweet Ann, Prima… That group. I'll have to be friends with them since they'll be the only ones I can talk to. But… they all speak English, and I can't speak that for shit. I don't think I'll survive."

A playful eye roll. "I'll teach you the language. Not only am I a great idol but a great teacher as well…"

Miku takes one last good look at him, one last look in his eyes, and there are a million things the two could've said to each other in them. A million things they could've done or could've been.

She squeezes him tightly. "And trust me. You'll survive."

…

Tomorrow morning, Piko will be gone, and that's it. There'll be no catty gossip, no songs to sing, no thumb circling the outline of his veins through pale skin.

But that's tomorrow. And the people who are vain? They only live for today.


End file.
